Chris Brown, Drake, and the carnage of W.i.P. (Getty/Getty/Twitter)

New York's club scene is still dealing with the aftermath of the Chris Brown/Drake row earlier this month at the SoHo underground hotspot W.i.P.  The city has shut down the venue for 14 violations following the fight on June 14th, when a barrage of flying bottles and broken glass rained down upon innocent bystanders.

Now club-goers are getting litigious against anybody they can find responsible (although Chris Brown has not yet the target of any of possible lawsuit, give it time), and the hotspot is suing the city. We know, it's hard to keep all these boldfaced names on the lawsuits straight, so here's a handy guide of the defendants and plaintiffs in what will go down in history as The Bottle Battle of 2012.

Free, man. (Matt Chaban)

An artist embraced.

Louis Lin, who led the #freetakeshi campaign.

Takeshi Miyakawa was released from custody a little after 4:30 this afternoon. The Greenpoint-based designer spent the past four nights behind bars for hanging I [heart] New York shopping bags, illuminated from within by an LED matrix of his own design, on trees and lamp posts around North Brooklyn.

So, does Mr. Miyakawa still love New York? “Yes, I do,” he said as a pack of reporters gathered around him outside Brooklyn Supreme Court on Jay Street, a few long blocks from the Manhattan Bridge. It was an odder than usual scene, just so, for the media scrum outside the halls of justice, with the impromptu press conference being conducted in equal parts English and Japanese, Mr. Miyakawa speaking softly either way.

He wore the same mint-green button-up shirt and baggy nylon cargo pants he had been arrested in at 2 a.m. on Saturday morning, after cops spotted him hanging one of his pieces at the corner of Bedford and Lorimer Avenues. A similar piece he placed early Friday morning on Bedford and North Sixth Street got three surrounding blocks shut down when a curious 311 call turned into a zealous 911 response.

“I was in shock,” Mr. Miyakawa said of his arrest, “but I was more in shock that people in Williamsburg were locked down for two hours, and I really want to apologize to them.”

One reporter asked what Mr. Miyakawa would be doing next, and while he seemed to mean the designer’s next steps in his legal defense, Mr. Miyakawa had more immediate things on his mind. "I just want to take a long bath," he said, "and have a beer."

At first it sounded like this might be the end of Mr. Miyakawa's career in public art, but he has not totally given up on what he said is very important work for him. "Not anymore," Mr. Miyakawa said, then added after a pause, "Not in this way. I'll get the permits first." Assuming, of course, he ever could get the city to cooperate with him after the stir he caused.

Mr. Miyakawa said that the most gratifying part of his ordeal was the overwhelming response it received online, both as a work of art and design and also as a piece of civic pride. It was true even here on Jay Street. While reporters were milling around for an hour and a half outside, awaiting the designer's release, numerous passersby asked who they were waiting for, and when told, a number of them had indeed heard of the case. "Good for him," one gentleman said.

Mr. Miyakawa stressed that he had not done this for the attention, though. "I didn't do this to get you, to get the media attention," he said. He said he was not sure if he would be suing the city for an unjust incarceration and would instead focus on the upcoming trial, which is scheduled for June 21. Until that time, Mr. Miyakawa is out without bail.

He still has to undergo a psychiatric evaluation, a prospect that seemed to puzzle him. "I was totally surprised," Mr. Miyakawa said of the initial denial of bail at his Sunday morning arraignment. "Do I look like an insane person? I'm quite eccentric, but not insane. But then again, you never know what a judge will think."

As the press conference wound down, Mr.Miyakawa's supports, a good 15 of them, burst into applause, along with a number of the Japanese reporters, who also bowed in appreciation for the newly free man's time. Like the police, he would get no such courtesy from the local press.

Louis Lin, a friend of Mr. Miyakawa and his greatest champion throughout his incarceration. was standing nearby, wearing an I [heart] Takeshi t-shirt. He was still in awe of the entire turn of events. "I appreciate the response by the police, they did their jobs, they had to," he said. "The simple thing is that it didn't need to escalate the way it did, though. You approach the guy, you figure it out."

Still, he felt the right message had been sent, by Mr. Miyakawa and by the rest of the city. "I feel hopeful," Mr. Lin said. "The way everybody responded, this experience showed that the people and the community still understand each other and love other, which is the spirit of New York that Takeshi loves."

Mr. Miyakawa agreed. "I did this because everything at design week takes place inside a convention center or a warehouse," he said. "I thought it would be interesting to bring it outside and communicate with people, get them connected with design."

Communicate he did.

Free, man. (Matt Chaban)

An artist embraced.

Louis Lin, who led the #freetakeshi campaign.

Takeshi Miyakawa was released from custody a little after 4:30 this afternoon. The Greenpoint-based designer spent the past four nights behind bars for hanging I [heart] New York shopping bags, illuminated from within by an LED matrix of his own design, on trees and lamp posts around North Brooklyn.

So, does Mr. Miyakawa still love New York? “Yes, I do,” he said as a pack of reporters gathered around him outside Brooklyn Supreme Court on Jay Street, a few long blocks from the Manhattan Bridge. It was an odder than usual scene, just so, for the media scrum outside the halls of justice, with the impromptu press conference being conducted in equal parts English and Japanese, Mr. Miyakawa speaking softly either way.

He wore the same mint-green button-up shit and baggy nylon cargo pants he had been arrested in at 2 a.m. on Saturday morning, after cops spotted him hanging one of his pieces at the corner of Bedford and Lorimer Avenues. A similar piece he placed early Friday morning on Bedford and North Sixth Street got three surrounding blocks shut down when a curious 311 call turned into a zealous 911 response.

“I was in shock,” Mr. Miyakawa said of his arrest, “but I was more in shock that people in Williamsburg were locked down for two hours, and I really want to apologize to them.”

One reporter asked what Mr. Miyakawa would be doing next, and while he seemed to mean the designer’s next steps in his legal defense, Mr. Miyakawa had more immediate things on his mind. "I just want to take a long bath," he said, "and have a beer."

At first it sounded like this might be the end of Mr. Miyakawa's career in public art, but he has not totally given up on what he said is very important work for him. "Not anymore," Mr. Miyakawa said, then added after a pause, "Not in this way. I'll get the permits first." Assuming, of course, he ever could get the city to cooperate with him after the stir he caused.

Mr. Miyakawa said that the most gratifying part of his ordeal was the overwhelming response it received online, both as a work of art and design and also as a piece of civic pride. It was true even here on Jay Street. While reporters were milling around for an hour and a half outside, awaiting the designer's release, numerous passersby asked who they were waiting for, and when told, a number of them had indeed heard of the case. "Good for him," one gentleman said.

Mr. Miyakawa stressed that he had not done this for the  attention, though. "I didn't do this to get you, to get the media attention," he said. He said he was not sure if he would be suing the city for an unjust incarceration and would instead focus on the upcoming trial, which is scheduled for June 21. Until that time, Mr. Miyakawa is out without bail.

He still has to undergo a psychiatric evaluation, a prospect that seemed to puzzle him. "I was totally surprised," Mr. Miyakawa said of the initial denial of bail at his Sunday morning arraigment. "Do I look like an insane person? I'm quite execentric, but not insane. But then again, you never know what a judge will think."

As the press conference wound down, Mr.Miyakawa's supports, a good 15 of them, burst into applause, along with a number of the Japanese reporters, who also bowed in appreciation for the newly free man's time. Like the police, he would get no such courtesy from the local press.

Louis Lin, a friend of Mr. Miyakawa and his greatest champion throughout his incarceration. was standing nearby, wearing an I [heart] Takeshi t-shirt. He was still in awe of the entire turn of events. "I appreciate the response by the police, they did their jobs, they had to," he said. "The simple thing is that it didn't need to escalate the way it did, though. You approach the guy, you figure it out."

Still, he felt the right message had been sent, by Mr. Miyakawa and by the rest of the city. "I feel hopeful," Mr. Lin said. "The way everybody responded, this experience showed that the people and the community still understand each other and love other, which is the spirit of New York that Takeshi loves."

Mr. Miyakawa agreed. "I did this because everything at design week takes place inside a convention center or a warehouse," he said. "I thought it would be interesting to bring it outside and communicate with people, get them connected with design."

Communicate he did.

Is running for the co-op board a big error? (Rochelle, just rochelle, flickr)

Is your annoying co-op or condo board always on your case, nagging you about this, that or the other thing? Didn't you leave this kind of misery behind when you moved out of your parents' house?

Well, it's probably all your fault, according to Brick Underground, which talks to a long-time Upper East Side co-op board member who helpfully explains why your board hates you.

First of all, maybe the co-op board would like you better if you liked them. Everybody blames the board for everything, and no one says thank you to the volunteers who have stepped into the line of fire for the good of the building, according to this anonymous board member.

"Be prepared to get yelled at, threatened with litigation, have your cell phone ring at odd hours, and be generally underappreciated for zero compensation," the board member told Brick Underground.

Also? Stop pretending that you don't live in the same building as other people, because you do, and you can't do whatever you want. This includes things that are perfectly legal, like smoking 18 hours a day.

The board also wishes that you would stop bitching about how annoying your neighbors are at annual meetings.

Basically, if you don't like living in the same building with other people, other people telling you what to do, or other people in general, you'd be well advised to shop for a townhouse if you can afford it.

kvelsey@observer.com

Not exactly related, yet appropriate.

A haunting mystery is unfolding in Toms River, New Jersey: Did Josue Chinchilla and Michele Callan flee the 3-bedroom ranch they rented at the corner of Terrance and Lowell to get away from malevolent spirits that fly in the night? Or were they running from the more prosaic demons that haunt every empty pocket book?

Mr. Chinchilla and his fiancee, Ms. Callan, told the Asbury Park Press that they took Ms. Callan's two children and fled the home one chill March night around 1 a.m.--just a week after moving in. The pair claim they and their children were terrified by a litany of classically vague ghostly visitations:

The family would come home and find their clothes and towels ejected from the closets and strewn over the floors. Doors would creak open and slam closed in unoccupied areas of the house. Lights switched on and off without human intervention. At night, footsteps could be heard from the kitchen after everyone was tucked in and unintelligible whispering seemed to fade in and out of thin air, according to the couple.

But none of the above was as bad as what the couple say they heard through the floor vents.

The rumbling of something down there in the dark.

Below.

To recoup their sanity Mr. Chinchilla and Ms. Callan have sought comfort in the arms of the New Jersey state Superior Court by filing suit against their landlord, Dr. Richard Lopez. The pair want Dr. Lopez to refund their $2,250 security deposit.

It is likely no surprise Dr. Lopez filed a suit of his own against the pair for breaking their lease. Dr. Lopez believes the couple's tale of terror is nothing but a cover story masking money troubles.

Naturally Mr. Chinchilla's and Ms. Callan's attorney believes their story. They have the backing of a group of paranormal researchers as well--because who doesn't have a paranormal research group available these days?

N.J. Paranormal Investigators co-founder Marianne Brigando told the A.P.P. that out of all their investigations "this is where we came up with the most concrete evidence." Ms. Brigando also told the New Jersey paper that her group found the house was likely home to--in the words of the A.P.P. reporter--"an active or intelligent haunting." This kind of haunting is, for those keeping score, "one level above a residual haunting."

If any of the elements of the story sound familiar, it may be because it smacks of another haunted house tale that occurred in Amityville, New York about 35 years ago. A best-selling book came out of the harrowing story of the Amityville Horror and a slew of reasonably successful films.

That "true" tale of terror was eventually admitted to be a hoax concocted by the family who fled the house and an interested attorney "over many bottles of wine."

The Asbury Park Press may be haunted by a rash of mysteriously missing readers after giving extended coverage to this story--various Facebook comments attached to the web version of their article indicate readers like "top commenter" Walter J. Grenci are not particularly amused: "The Asbury Park Press building on Rt. 66 in Neptune is haunted too. Haunted by bad decisions, inept reporting, gramitical (sic) errors, and useless editors."

Get out the bleach? (carlpenergy, flickr)

Many a New York basement and unventilated bathroom is thick with the stuff; the city's courts may be next.

A few weeks ago, Manhattan's appellate court overturned an earlier decision blocking damage claims for health problems resulting from living in moldy buildings, The Journal reports—a decision that could result in a wave of personal injury lawsuits.

The court decided that scientific evidence now indicates a causal relationship between mold and health problems, opening a legal door that has been closed since 2008, when a judge found insufficient evidence that mold or a damp indoor environment causes illness.

The change has left building owners, co-op and condo lawyers worrying about the musty recesses of their buildings, and whether a damp basement could be grounds for a lawsuit, according to the Journal.

And worry they should. Last year, housing inspectors issued 15,942 violations for mold-related conditions, which could equal an awful lot of lawsuits.

Dwellers of dank apartments experiencing headaches, nausea and respiratory distress can thank Hell's Kitchen tenant Brenda Cornell for bringing mold back to the court's attention.

Cornell, who lived above a Hell's Kitchen basement that was "damp, musty, and harboring bugs and mice," is seeking $11.8 million in damages, according to the lawsuit.

Cornell said she experienced dizziness, chest tightness, congestion, shortness of breath, a rash, swollen eyes and a metallic taste in her mouth after workers started construction on a basement. The problems abated after Cornell fled the apartment, the lawsuit claims.

"It is going to result in a heck of a lot more lawsuits being filed by people who have mold- and moisture-related conditions and suffer from health effects," Bill Sothern, a certified industrial hygienist told the The Journal.

He may be right. In Texas, where mold-afflicted residents have been long been able to sue, the number of mold-related claims shot up sharply in the early 2000s, costing Texas insurance companies approximately $4 billion.

kvelsey@observer.com

Watch where you're going... (Getty)

After all the attention Casey Neistat brought to the perils of biking in bike lanes, and how it is not actually illegal to bike outside of them, you would think the NYPD would stop issuing tickets for this non-offense. But alas, the quota-driven cycling crackdown continues, and it has led one biker to sue the state DMV.

Evan Neumann, a long-time cyclist, recently received a ticket for something as offensive as crossing the road, according to the Daily News. He was riding in the bike lane on the left side of the road, then passed into traffic so he could make a right turn at the corner. Voila! Un ticket.

Mr. Neumann took his case up with the Department of Motor Vehicles, believing it would be routinely dismissed, since it is indeed legal to ride outside the bike lane in New York. The state, however, has certain laws that make the violation legit, so the ticket was upheld and Mr. Neumann was even slapped with an extra surcharge, too.

“I was caught up in a Kafkaesque lose-lose situation,” he told the News, adding that this was the first bicycling ticket he had ever gotten.

Now Mr. Neumann hopes the state Supreme Court will rule in his favor and overturn the tickets, giving New York City precedence in these matters over the state.

Julie Taymor and Bono (Getty Images)

Recently, the public got its hands on the 35-page complaint that Julie Taymor and her company LOH Inc. filed in response to the countersuit launched by the producers of Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark.

To catch up: Ms. Taymor sued the producers of the show for using her material after firing her, won a ton of money, but is still suing them for more money. The defendants in the case -- 8 Legged Productions, LLC, Hello Entertainment LLC, Goodbye Entertainment LLC, Michael Cohl, Glen Berger, Jeremiah Harris, and Savior Productions LLC -- include the producers who recently launched the countersuit, claiming that Ms. Taymor's detrimental influence on the production hurt the show and cost them money. Also, her co-author for the book, Glen Berger. Back and forth, forever and ever.

While we're waiting for this mess to get untangled (spider web pun!) in court, Ms. Taymor's complaint contains enough juicy dirt on show creator Bono and his cohorts to keep us entertained for the rest of the week. Here are the 10 most soap opera moments from the document, so you don't have to slog through the paperwork yourself.

1. Julie Taymor is a genius, says co-author.
In a private e-mail correspondence, the book's co-author Glen Berger effusively gushed to Ms. Taymor about what an honor it was to work with such a brilliant auteur.

i’ve been meaning to point this out for a while, but today, as people could sense something alchemical was going on in how the story was working—it’s—your directing and designing on this thing aside—your understanding of theatre has enabled you to
create a profoundly effective story. yeah, I wrote more of the words in the script, but the beat-to-beat narrative—that was totally your vision (I was your boy wonder) – and by figuring how to send the audience high, then plunging them low immediately after, then sending them high again, and on and on—well,anyway, just a few hundred hurdles to go, so I won't get into it...it seems to work on the audience on a physiological level—putting them in a state where they're wholly open—prepared to engage in the story on a deep deep emotional level...(Emphasis added) but just wanted to say what a gift, what a mind-cracking, heart-swelling gift it’s been having these front-row tickets to you....

2. Mr. Berger later changed his mind and went behind her back to help develop the nefarious-sounding Plan X in an attempt to change the show to make it more coherent, which is bitchy but we're pretty sure is not illegal.

As the series of unforseen events unfolded, Berger and Tsypin apparently began privately to discuss a plan to re-write the Book of the Musical such that, among other things, the culmination of the current Act I—a dramatic fight scene between Spider-Man and the villain Green Goblin—would move to the end of Act II. Berger called this plan “Plan X.”212.

Among other things, and unbeknownst to Taymor, Plan X appears to have been conceived as a way to avoid the technical challenges Tsypin and his team were having with staging the finale called for by the Book of the Musical co-authored by Taymor.

3. Bono, Mr. Kohl, and Mr. Berger all emailed each other about the problems with the show! Without CC'ing Ms. Taymor!

On December 29, 2010, for example, Berger sent an e-mail to Tsypin stating that it was “best not to mention anything to J.” Tsypin responded: “I won’t say a word.”

Upon information and belief, Berger and Tsypin, without Taymor’s knowledge,then reached out secretly to Cohl, Harris, Bono, and Edge in an effort to further their clandestine plan. To this end, Berger and Tsypin apparently sent e-mails to Cohl and Harris describing their plan and imploring the producers to “please don’t let JT know I’m sending this.

4. Bono et. all were going to come clean to the director about the changes in a meeting set in a hotel room at night (where most meetings take place), only to show up drunk with super models. Come on, Bono was just trying to lighten the mood!

Upon information and belief, on January 13, 2011, Cohl, Berger, and Bono met with Taymor in the VIP room of the Foxwoods Theater. Unbeknownst to Taymor, Berger apparently understood that the purpose of the meeting was to finally disclose Plan X to Taymor. As Berger recounted in a later e-mail, however, “that meeting never happened”:

[t]he meeting was postponed until 11 p.m., when Bono was going to show up –except he showed up in our room with Christy Turlington and a couple other supermodels, and he had already had a few beers, rendering him useless — so the producers postponed the meeting till the next afternoon–but that meeting never happened.

(More importantly, since when does a "few beers" render an Irishman useless? And Christy Turlington isn't just any old floozy...she probably lent some actual class to the proceedings.)

5. Apparently, Turn of the Dark actually got some great early reviews...but no one read them because they were too busy focusing on how cast members were being put in mortal danger.

On February 7, 2011, critics published pre-emptive reviews of the Musical five weeks before the then-scheduled opening night of March 15. While some of the reviews contained criticism of the show, those that praised it praised elements that had been conceived and implemented largely by Taymor: “As a stager . . . Taymor is bold, elegant, and eloquent”;“The flying is thrilling, a full-tilt leap into the extraordinary”; “‘Spider-Man’ deftly spins substance and spectacle”; “The state-of-the-art visuals can be stunning”; “Taymor delivers”; “A visual feast.”

6. And the stuff that wasn't even reviewed?? Even better.

By many accounts, the version of the Musical as it was being performed in late February 2011—which version was never reviewed by the press—had greatly improved since the version that had been reviewed by the press at the beginning of February 2011.247.

On February 18, 2011, for example, Glenn Orsher, Cohl’s Executive Producer,sent an e-mail to Taymor stating: “Wow! What a great show!

7. Even after she was fired, the press was (apparently) still applauding Ms. Taymor, despite the producer's claims that the show was entirely revamped. (Though she's still listed as the author of Spider-Man's book.)

Rather Taymor’s substantial creative contributions to the Musical, including her work as co-author of the Book, remain an integral part of the Musical and a substantial reason for its success. The myriad press reviews of the revised Musical that the producers have touted on the Musical’s website promoting the show confirm this: “A fun, high-flying adventure”; “There's more flying than ever-And you can't help but feel a thrill as Spider-Man and the Goblin battle it out just a few dozen feet above your head!”; “it’s a fantastic spectacle”; “Thrilling high-flying acrobatics”; “dazzling sequences unprecedented on Broadway!”; “It was one of the most dazzling theatrical experiences we have ever seen! And, most of that, we think, can be attributed to the bold and inspired work of Julie Taymor”; “[e]ssential elements of [the Original]

8. Ms. Taymor barely had time to eat dinner, that's how hard she was working!
From disclosed email correspondence between Ms. Taymor and Bono.

It is nine pm in NYC. I am just about to sit down to a home cooked meal. I have been at it on [Spider-Man] nonstop. Glen has as well. We are writing lyrics, lines of dialogue, changes in music–all in service to the ending, to clarity. We know what the story is, we understand the stakes–but we do not have the lyrics to support it. I would like to talk to you before midnight my time– after I eat– to go over the situation and beg for lyrics. We need you. It is not easy to change anything but now I think it is a matter of lyrical and musical changes — and perhaps cutting a scene or two from a second act.

9. Most incredibly: Julie Taymor spent seven years on Spider-Man and still couldn't get it to opening night.

In total denigration of Taymor’s over seven years of work on the Musical and with obvious malice, defendants assert in paragraph 10 of their counterclaims that “[t]he show is a success despite Taymor, not because of her.”

10. Spider-Man's ticket sales have not increased since the show opened and Ms. Taymor was fired.

The producers also have not created a more financially viable production than Taymor’s original production. The first version of Spider-Man consistently ranked as the second- or third-highest grossing show on Broadway, despite the lack of promotion of the show to encourage ticket sales during the prolonged preview period. Its box office receipts were almost identical to the box office receipts that the revised version has earned since Taymor was dismissed from the production.

So basically: Julie Taymor did everything, Glen Berger is a jerk, and even though the show is entirely different now--scrapping entire elements and characters of the original and creating new content--Ms. Taymor should also be getting credit for this. (Except for the parts of the show which were a flop, in which case it was the fault of Bono being drunk.)

Also Spider-Man: Turn Off the Dark made a ton of money under Ms. Taymor's guidance, got rave reviews, everything was perfect, and nothing hurt. (Except for those internal injuries suffered by the show's actors.)

This was the “noodle show,” a demonstration of starchy prowess that has occurred every night for 44 years.

The Observer was seated at a two-top, doing research (the best kind) on the federal lawsuit then being tried in Miami pitting Mr Chow against the upstart Philippe by Philippe Chow, a strikingly similar chain started in 2005 by a longtime member of Mr Chow’s New York kitchen staff.

There’s a noodle show at Philippe as well—performed by Mr Chow’s former noodle man, in fact—but that wasn’t what had the guests in tight minidresses pulling out their point-and-shoots when The Observer arrived a little later that same evening (stashing our Mr Chow doggie bag on the way in). Despite Michael Chow’s contention that Philippe had ripped off his concept wholesale, the difference in ambiance was striking.

Whereas Mr Chow was refined and understated, the vibe at Philippe could be described only as bumpin’. The bar was tightly packed. Servers wore red Chuck Taylors. Smashing Pumpkins was blaring on the PA. A woman in a tube top was sitting on a banquette in the entryway, eating out of a take-out container. Everyone was texting.

The excitement that evening turned out to be on behalf of the several New York Giants who were following up their Canyon of Heroes moment with a celebratory dinner in an upstairs dining room, while a photographer working for Cîroq vodka captured the scene.

We approached defensive end Osi Umenyiora to ask what the appeal was. “Great restaurant,” he said.

Maybe so, we thought, but whose?

The Chicken Satay at Philippe—flattened ribbons of tender breast meat the color of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, gently perforated with bamboo skewers and bathed in a milky, khaki-color gravy—seems an unlikely object of interest for a federal court. It’s exquisitely bland, the latex baby-binky of premium appetizers.

Yet the Chicken Satay, and in particular its marked similarity to the Chicken Satay served several blocks away at Mr Chow, was one of the key matters in the suit. (The 18 pages of testimony about the recipe, which was created at Mr Chow’s original restaurant in London in 1978, remain under seal, but several details that emerged over the course of the trial indicted that the secret sauce involves a lot of cream and a widely available Thai “spice packet.”)

Michael Chow’s complaint, which sought $21 million in damages, alleged that the team behind Philippe, including chef Philippe Chau, restaurateur Stratis Morfogen (also behind the well-received Ciano) and several codefendants, appropriated the Satay recipe and 11 other Mr Chow standbys, the “modern” decor of Mr Chow’s restaurants and even the name Chow—thereby engaging in deceptive trade practices, swiping trade secrets and infringing on the Mr Chow trademark.

In essence, the suit claimed, they’d tried to become Mr Chow—the Invasion of the Body Snatchers of haute Chinese cuisine. “They want to not just clone me, they want to take the whole thing,” Mr. Chow testified on the stand, sporting his trademark owlish glasses and a bespoke Hermés suit. “They want to wipe me—just replace me completely, including my personal identity.”

Philippe countersued, seeking $25 million for defamation following the description of its chef by Mr Chow’s former attorney as a “fraud” in a Miami Herald article. They also challenged Mr Chow’s trademark—“that knife that he uses to try to chop up the competition,” as defense attorney Anthony Accetta put it—claiming the company neglected to defend it. (They cited, among other things, the failure to use a period after M-r.)

Last week, following a mouthwatering four-week trial that featured a T.I. song played in open court and touched on everything from the elusive Qiao-mer, which Mr. Chow described as “know-how, trick, knack, technique, and kung fu” of Chinese cookery, to the difference between a banquette and a baguette (a distinction that bedeviled Mr. Accetta), the jury delivered a mixed verdict. While finding in favor of the defendant on the issues of trademark infringement (which has a three-year statue of limitations) and stealing recipes, they determined that the Philippe team had engaged in “false advertising” and “unfair competition by deceptive conduct.” The defendants were ordered to pay $1 million. Philippe’s counterclaims were rejected by the jury.

Mr Chow’s public relations firm promptly unfurled a press release that hailed the decision as “a complete victory,” in the words of Mr. Chow’s attorney, powerhouse entertainment litigator Bert Fields, best known for representing Jeffrey Katzenberg in his suit against the Walt Disney Company.

Mr. Morfogen told The Observer he was having what he called a “celebratory lunch” with his partners and legal team at a spot near the courthouse when his cell phone began buzzing with texts—friends writing to offer their condolences.

“I said, ‘You got to be kidding me!’” Mr. Morfogen recalled. “That’s Bert Fields’s ultimate spin. If I had lost 15 out of 16 counts, my response to the press would be, ‘I respect the justice system. We lost and we’re going to appeal.’ But don’t embarrass yourself. Have a little dignity.”

Playing catch-up, the Philippe team then issued a press release of its own, in which Mr. Accetta declared that the “landslide victory … serves as a testament to the American dream.” Mr. Morfogen followed up tweeting a link to the Philippe version of events to everyone who tweeted press reports on the case.

He also sent out an open invitation to a victory party at Philippe’s New York location, after which he ended the day on a combative note.

“@PhilippeChow was very touched by the huge turnout tonight ! F the ‘wire tap’ FIElDS and the PUPPET michael chow !” he wrote at 4:21 am, following up a few minutes later with a dig at Mr. Chow’s daughter: “china chow is a joke! Take the loss and be silent!” His wife, former Vogue editor Filipa Fino, got into the act too, tweeting, “Poor @mrchowdining. Cant accept protege success.Would MrBalenciaga b upset at Nicolas? Can’t we have both?”

Mr. Morfogen’s wiretapping reference recalled the case of private detective Anthony Pellicano, who was convicted in 2008 of eavesdropping on various celebrities. Mr. Fields was one of Mr. Pellicano’s clients, but he wasn’t accused of wrongdoing. “I was never charged with anything,” Mr. Fields told The Observer. “I was never even a target of the investigation.”

As to the contention that Philippe actually won the case, he said, “You don’t count counts! When I file a lawsuit, I often have 10 different theories on which I can win. Would we like to have gotten greater damages? No question about that. But who won is about who got the damages, who paid the damages, who was found to have committed a wrong, who was found not to have. It’s just stupid to say otherwise.”

Countered Mr. Accetta: “Of course we’re the prevailing party. It was the best verdict I could have asked for. We prevailed on a majority of the main issues.”

The case dates back to the summer of 2005. At the time, Mr. Chau was working in the kitchen at Mr Chow, where he’d held a variety of jobs since 1980. A note about his name, which was the subject of seemingly endless debate during the trial: Chak Sam Chau, who was born in Canton and testified about swimming four hours to freedom in Hong Kong, towing a friend behind him, was dubbed either Philippo or Philippe or both by Mr Chow’s then-head chef, Sik Chung Lam, when he began working in the kitchen at age 16. In 2006, he became a naturalized citizen, changing his legal name to Philippe Chow Chau. (Chow, Chau and Zhao are all translations of the same Chinese character.)

The plaintiffs asserted that the name change was part of a deliberate campaign to confuse the public. The defense insisted that the switch had been initiated—though not completed—before the restaurant plans got underway. (Philippe Chow Chau directed questions to Mr. Morfogen.)

Over the years, Mr. Chau worked his way up to fryer, dim sum man and chopper, finally becoming head chopper-expediter, a title that does not fully capture the significance of his role. Though he used a translator in his court appearances, Mr. Chau was one of the better English speakers in the back-of-house, a valued go-between between the restaurant’s management and its kitchen staff. He also substituted for most other positions, and so learned to make just about every dish on the menu.

When Chef Lam retired, Mr. Chau fully expected to be named to the top position. Instead the gig went to Kwok Hor, who had been recruited in Hong Kong and trained at the London restaurant, according to Mr Chow’s usual practice. Mr. Chau was despondent. In one of the trial’s more dramatic moments, he recalled his frustration. “My family was not very happy with what happened because I had been working in that restaurant for 22 years, and everybody thought that I would be the one [to be promoted to] head chef,” he said, bursting into tears. “I do not understand why Michael Chow [treated] me like this. My wife thought that I would be the chef after Lam’s retirement.”

After a two-minute break, he returned to the stand and apologized. “I really feel so bad,” he said. “My heart hurts me so bad.” (Interestingly, the moment recalled Mr. Fields’s most famous case, which began when Mr. Katzenberg also felt passed over for a top job. A turning point in that trial occurred when Mr. Fields drew out Michael Eisner’s admission that he just might have called his No. 2 a “little midget.”)

Mr. Chau worked under Chef Hor for two years. Then one day in the summer of 2005, a busboy slipped him a business card from a customer. It said Au Bar on it. Mr. Morfogen, who had been a regular customer at Mr Chow for a decade, was in talks with another upscale Chinese bistro, Paris’s Davé, to open a New York branch, and he was looking for a chef.

Mr. Chau called the business card “a gift from God.”

He tendered his resignation not long after, and in December 2005, Philippe by Philippe Chow opened its doors on East 60th Street. Like Mr Chow, the space was chic and minimalist, and the menu featured a number of Mr Chow’s “signature” dishes, albeit with a few key differences: Chicken Joanna became Chicken Jo Lau, Ma Mignon became Me Mignon, and With Three became Three Within. Such talmudic nuances recalled the 1988 Eddie Murphy comedy Coming to America. “Look, me and the McDonald’s people got this little misunderstanding,” explains the owner of an independent burger joint. “See, they’re McDonald’s. I’m McDowell’s. They got the Golden Arches, mine is the Golden Arcs. They got the Big Mac, I got the Big Mick …”

As the New York Post wrote in a review of Philippe, “It looks like the most flagrant case of culinary cloning since Peter Luger deserters set up shop in Manhattan.”

Indeed, such restaurant feuds are nothing new. There is, for example, the Famous Ray’s-versus-Original Ray’s showdown, the Manganaro’s rift, and the curious cockfight between Park Slope’s Los Pollitos and Los Pollitos II. Recently, when Mario Batalli got wind of an Otto pizzeria in Portland, Maine, that seemed to overlap with his Otto in New York and Vegas, he tweeted, “these folks are d bags and thieves,” deleting the message in short order.

Rebecca Charles, owner of Pearl’s Oyster Bar, has sued two former colleagues who left to open similar restaurants, Mary Redding (Mary’s Fish Camp) and Ed McFarland (Ed’s Lobster Bar). Neither case made it to court. “Copying somebody’s business from A to Z should not be legal,” she said. “I had it happen twice. It’s unutterably painful.”

Way back in 1904, according to an item in The New York Times, a Chinese-American man named Lem Sen claimed to have invented the chop suey, which caught on like scallion pancakes, only to have it stolen by what the unnamed reporter, mimicking an accent, called a “Mellikan man.” Lem Sen sought an injunction preventing anyone else from making it the dish, supposedly telling The Times, “Now me wantee … all stop makee choop soo or pay me for alowee do same.”

Incidentally, it was just one year later that Mr. Morfogen’s grandfather, Paul Morfogen, who co-owned a restaurant called Pappas on 14th Street, introduced the Greek salad to New York, according to Mr. Morfogen. “But to say he owns it would be ludicrous,” he added.

Initially, Mr Chow was slow to act. “Why would you let me go three years and eight months?” Mr. Morfogen asked. “Not one cease-and-desist letter, not one smoke signal, not one email, not one phone call! And guess what? My wife and his ex-wife worked together!” Mr. Chow, who is now married to Eva Chow, was briefly married to Grace Coddington, later Ms. Fino’s boss at Vogue, which one imagines made for some awkwardness when the suit was filed. (Ms. Fino left the magazine in June 2011 and now runs an online magazine, Fino File.)

In explaining the apparent delay in filing suit, Mr. Chow testified he initially thought Philippe would just open in New York “and they may not last very long,” admitting he was “in some sort of denial.” Then he read news reports about Philippe planning openings in Las Vegas and L.A. As Mr Chow prepared to expand into Miami, Philippe opened “literally 100 yards away from us.”

He began to feel like the victim of “stalking,” he said, “or tailgating, like, a car.” (He has since become more proactive, suing Giuseppe Cipriani over the name of his new restaurant in Beverly Hills, Mr. C. That dispute is currently in mediation, Mr. Fields said.)

Philippe quickly gained a following in New York—in part due to its prime location (60th and Madison), its slightly more affordable food and its celebrity clientele, including Rihanna and Kanye West. (Like T.I., Wale and Young Jeezy have also called out the restaurant in their lyrics, though their tracks were never brought up in the trial.)

But the jury found that fair competition wasn’t the whole story, concluding that Philippe had engaged in a pattern of false advertising, seemingly designed to convince the public that Mr. Chau had been the real heart of the Mr Chow operation. Though Philippe’s public relations firm issued press releases touting Philippe as “the architect of Mr Chow’s menu for the past 27 years,” Mr. Chau admitted on the stand that all of the signature dishes were on the menu before he arrived. Another release asserted that the chef was “acclaimed as one of the top Asian chefs by one of the most prestigious food critics,” though Mr. Morfogen later admitted Mr. Chau had never been mentioned in any media report at all. Mr. Morfogen also boasted to the press that “we have basically their core kitchen” and stated that “60 to 70 percent of the menu is similar.”

“The feather that broke the camel’s back,” Mr. Chow testified, was his discovery that Mr. Morfogen had purchased the search term “Mr Chow” on Google, Yahoo and AOL, in a bid to direct users to Philippe instead. (The text of the sponsored links contained the term “Mr Chow” but Philippe’s address.)

“I realized that this thing is not going to stop, not going to go away, and left me no choice,” Mr. Chow said.

The battle was personal, but it was also commercial. As Philippe became one of the city’s hottest restaurants, Mr Chow’s profits in New York “dropped like a stone,” Mr. Chow said. After increases every year since 1995, they began to flag in 2006 and decreased by a million dollars every year thereafter until the lawsuit was filed. “Fifty-seventh Street is dead in the water,” Mr. Chow testified. “We survived the last three years, just barely.”

Mr. Fields said profits were better in Beverly Hills and Miami, where the lawsuit, which was filed a few months after Philippe’s launch and the week of Mr Chow’s, “took a lot of steam out of their opening.” Mr. Morfogen claimed that was the purpose of the suit all along.

The restaurant business, particularly in New York, is not an arena for gentle souls. Behind every passive-aggressive server wondering if you’ve “dined with us before” is a knife fight for survival. Margins are low, tastes are fickle, and competition is relentless. Things have only grown worse with as the stock market has fallen and web entities like Yelp, Eater and OpenTable have grown in power.

Neither Mr. Chow nor Mr. Morfogen seems to have gotten where they are without breaking a few ramekins. In 2007, Mr. Chow was sued by three former employees for harassment. One, now a partner in Philippe, claimed he had been forced to lie on the floor and humiliated during a staff meeting. The suit also claimed that Mr Chow had failed to pay overtime and distributed tips to ineligible employees through a complicated point system, in violation of labor law. The case was settled out of court for an undisclosed sum.

Mr. Chow could not discuss the case due to the terms of the settlement. Mr. Fields, however, maintained that “Mr. Chow never harassed anyone.”

Meanwhile, several former associates of Mr. Morfogen’s, who declined to speak on the record, were highly critical of his business methods, variously describing him as “manipulative,” “abusive” and “bullying.” More than one called him “the devil.”

“That’s their opinion,” Mr. Morfogen said. “Look, I’m a boss that has 300 employees. I’m not running for a popularity contest, I’m not running for mayor. If I’m a bully I’m a fair bully. That courtroom was full of employees I’ve been good to.”

A former manager of Philippe, Tim Pappas, said working with Mr. Morfogen was “a great experience,” adding, “He gave me an opportunity to shine, and I did.” (Mr. Pappas is set to open his own restaurant, Neraï, in the spot formerly occupied by Oceana.)

Restaurateur Michael Stein, whose late father, Howard Stein, was a nightlife impresario who owned Xenon and Au Bar and later brought in Mr. Morfogen as a partner, told The Observer that Mr. Morfogen once called him screaming. “He threatens he’s going to kill me, saying I stole from Au Bar,” Mr. Stein recalled, insisting that he had done no such thing.

Mr. Morfogen scoffed at the story. “Howard was heartbroken, saying, ‘My son stole from me,’” he said. “I was touched by that. It wasn’t my money. I told Michael, ‘Don’t come back to Au Bar.’ I don’t say ‘kill.’ That’s not in my vocabulary. What I probably said was, ‘If you set foot in here I’ll get a lawyer and have you kicked out.’”

The plaintiffs in Chow v. Chau presented evidence that Philippe may have engaged in “unlawful compensation,” or paying employees under the table. Attorneys deposed a number of workers who pleaded the Fifth Amendment to avoid answering questions about the matter, including Mr. Morfogen’s then-business partner Michael Reda. Ultimately, the judge ruled the allegations prejudicial and irrelevant to the case.

Mr. Morfogen called the charges “allegations” and “smoke screens.” He added, “I’ve been investigated by the IRS, the state sales tax, and our restaurants are still operating, and we have a clean bill of health. A couple  of chefs would come in and get cash to go down to Chinatown and buy supplies. That’s the only cash, and now it’s all done by check. But that’s not my area. I run the front of the house. Mike Reda told me he didn’t do it, and I believe him. I was against him taking the Fifth Amendment, but when I asked him why, he said his personal attorney advised him on it.”

(Attempts to contact Mr. Reda were unsuccessful; Mr. Morfogen said he is no longer involved with Philippe.)

“My opinion is the issue was used to intimidate, harass and slander my client,” Mr. Accetta told The Observer, adding, “It’s not relevant to this case.”

It may seem strange that at a time when Asian cuisine in New York has come to be defined by colorful figures like pork-belly provocateur David Chang and Eddie Huang, the bad-boy of bao—chefs who serve up artery-clogging delicacies with a touch of aggression—such a hard-fought battle has been waged over a style of cuisine that foodies dismiss as old-hat and critics routinely savage as greasy and bland.

“Not to say they’re not good restaurants,” hedged Danielle Chang, creator of the Asian food festival Luckyrice, who has eaten at Mr Chow and Philippe. “It’s a different brand of Asian food, dressed up for American palettes. I don’t mean to be derogatory, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“The vibe and the menu seem very old-school and outdated now,” said Jennifer 8. Lee, author of The Fortune Cookie Chronicles, who admitted she has never been to either restaurant. Ms. Lee attributed the success of Chinese food in America to precisely the sort of borrowing at the heart of the case. “Chinese food has always been iterative,” she said. “That’s how General Tso’s Chicken and fortune cookies got spread. It’s like open-source innovation. In that sense, this situation is part of a long tradition, though it is a little more sketchy.”

Mr Chow has had a truly spectacular run. The Beatles and the Stones became regulars after the first restaurant opened in London in 1968 (John Lennon’s last supper was eaten at Mr Chow on 57th Street). The Beverly Hills location, which launched in 1973, became a favorite power spot (it is still a regular location for those TMZ paparazzi videos). The New York restaurant was a favorite of the Warhol crew and later became a draw for hip-hop artists—all with a menu that has little changed in more than four decades.

That said, celebrity patrons are not known for adventurous culinary taste (e.g., Elaine’s, Michael’s).

If the outcome of Chow v. Chau does anything, it will be to help Mr. Chow preserve this astonishing legacy—one that was bound to spread, legally or otherwise. In an email, Mr. Chow told us, “With my restaurant, I bridged the palates of the East and the West and have made this my life’s work. I felt I had to stand up for myself and my life’s work when I was wronged, and I have done that. A Miami jury awarded me over a million dollars in damages, and I feel vindicated. I now want to move on and continue to focus on my business.”

For his part, Mr. Morfogen vows to appeal the verdict, insisting that the jurors misunderstood how Google advertising works. Meanwhile, with locations in Miami, Manhattan, Long Island, Mexico City, West Hollywood and Boca Raton, he is again looking to expand, eyeing Las Vegas, as well as Fort Lauderdale, Dallas and Dubai.

With the jury’s sanction, all of them will serve Green Prawns, Chicken Satay and House Me Mignon.

Looks safe to us.

“I’m literally just a Jewish person living in New York City, but I guess my neighbor doesn’t like that.”

Although he’s pulling the race card, The Observer can’t help but sympathize with Zev Geller, who is being sued for $500,000 for constructing a “fire hazard” on the terrace of his Trump Place condo, according to the Post.

And by “fire hazard” we are referring to his 20-foot sukkah, a religious structure that serves more of a symbolic purpose than a practical one, at least, not since Israel’s last harvest season or the Exodus from Egypt. Observant Jews will camp out in their sukkahs during the holiday of Sukkot. Hip ones build designer baubles in Union Square.

Although Geller has hinted that the disgruntled couple slapping him with the suit could be Anti-Semites, Thomas Tagliani and Leslie Lucas claim that the matter has nothing to do with religion and everything to do with safety: They are worried that the straw sukkot will transform into the burning bush.

kcarter@observer.com